


Gonna Let The Rain Pour

by mrs_d



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 02:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13157736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: “Oh,” Sam said softly, and Steve’s eyes went wide, caught out. “I forgot. Rainy days like this make you horny.”“They do not,” said Steve, but his blush spoke volumes.





	Gonna Let The Rain Pour

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Rihanna's Umbrella (because obviously).

“Ugh,” said Sam as he made his way through the front door at last.

The walk home had been miserable; all day it’d been drizzling, and then the second he decided he was leaving work— boom, downpour. Just his luck. Thankfully he’d brought an umbrella and a jacket, but between the cold wind whipping along the block, the smelly dead leaves in his path, and the drivers who seemed to take great pleasure in speeding through puddles, Sam was soaked.

He set his umbrella down on the plastic boot tray and gingerly stepped out of his shoes. He winced when one of his socks squished, and bent down to peel them off. When he straightened up again, Steve was there, watching Sam with something like an apologetic look.

“I could’ve picked you up,” he said, extending his arms to hang up Sam’s dripping coat.

“Nah,” Sam replied. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Steve looked doubtful. “Okay.”

“But hey,” Sam went on, as he took off his sweater and grabbed his socks from the floor. “Don’t we have somebody who can fix this?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, following Sam to the bedroom.

“Isn’t there some hero who can control the weather?” Sam clarified. He draped his wet clothing over the edge of their hamper and turned to face Steve directly. “Couldn’t we just call them up, ask for a few sunny days?”

Steve didn’t answer right away. There was something weird going on with his face, Sam realized. It seemed almost like he was holding back a grin, or keeping himself in check. Sam was about to ask, but then Steve’s eyes darted down, and Sam realized that his wet clothes were sticking to him in places.

“Oh,” he said softly, and Steve’s eyes went wide, caught out. “I forgot. Rainy days like this make you horny.”

“They do not,” said Steve, but his blush spoke volumes.

Sam laughed. “Well, you won’t mind if I get out of these wet clothes, then, will you?”

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Go ahead,” he said, a little more hoarsely than usual. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a chill and get sick.”

“You can’t get sick from getting cold,” Sam replied, unbuttoning his collared shirt, leaving the white tee exposed. “That’s just an old wives’ tale.”

“Then I’m an old wife,” said Steve, and his warm, dry hands were suddenly on Sam’s abdomen. Sam stepped back instinctively, found himself against the bedroom wall.

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Steve cut him off with a kiss that felt like fire against Sam’s chilled skin. He could feel the faint residue of rainwater on his lips, but it may as well have evaporated, leaving only the faint taste of cinnamon gum in its wake. Sam heard himself make a noise as Steve’s hands snuck up under his t-shirt, his thumbs skating over Sam’s nipples, which hardened at once.

“Steve,” Sam half-laughed, pulling back as the sensation sent shivers down his back. “I don’t think that’s warming me up.”

“Sorry,” Steve said, and he stopped, kissing Sam’s cheek instead.

“No, you’re not,” Sam tried to scoff, though the words came out more as a gasp when Steve’s fingers dropped behind him to play with the back seam of Sam’s pants, slipping just under the waistband of his boxers.  

Steve gave him a bare glimpse of his smirk before he kissed Sam again, deep and wet. Sam let his eyes close and brought his own hands up, wrapping himself around Steve’s warm body. He kissed Steve for all he was worth to distract him as he tugged at the back of Steve’s t-shirt, untucking it to get some payback. Then, he traced the line of Steve’s lower back with one cool finger.

“Gah!” Steve exclaimed, leaping back.

Sam laughed outright. “Told you you weren’t sorry.”

Steve made a noise that almost a growl as his strong arms grabbed Sam’s waist and tugged him away from the wall. “You’re just not warm enough yet,” Steve said, shoving Sam playfully towards the bed.

Sam grinned when his ass hit the mattress. “Is that so?”

“Uh huh,” Steve said, sounding like he was short of breath. “Your clothes are wet, they’ve got to come off.”

“Uh huh,” Sam echoed, but he didn’t sound as in control as he was hoping to, because Steve was straddling him.

Steve smirked again, no doubt hearing the catch in Sam’s voice, and started pulling Sam’s shirt up. He did it slowly, stopping every few inches to nuzzle and kiss the skin that he’d exposed. Sam squirmed, trying to hurry him by rucking up the fabric under his back, but Steve wouldn’t be rushed.

Sam groaned in frustrated arousal when Steve finally reached his left nipple and gave it one slow lick with the flat of his tongue. Steve flashed a grin at him and moved his mouth to the other side — his breath was so hot, Sam was shivering again — but he didn’t lick.

“Oh, come on,” Sam said, exasperated. “Are we doing this or not?”

Steve’s quiet laugh tickled Sam’s clavicle. “It’s not often that you’re the impatient one,” he commented casually, and Sam rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

“Well, you practically pounce on me the minute I walk in the door,” he explained, “and then you go for the slow tease? I mean, gimme a break.”

“Mm,” Steve replied, like he was thinking, and then Sam was cold again — Steve had moved up and off him so fast that Sam could feel the disturbance in the air. He sat up to find Steve hastily undressing. His nipples were as pink as his cheeks, and when he got his pants off, well. Not all of Steve was onboard with his plan to go slow.

“You’re right,” Steve said, crawling up the bed again. He settled on his knees above Sam and began removing Sam’s belt. “If I’m gonna warm you up, skin-to-skin is fastest.”

“That wasn’t what—” Sam started to say, but he gave up when Steve pulled him up, drawing his shirt over his head as he did. A second later they were both naked under the duvet, and— yeah, okay, Sam was definitely warmer now.

“Better?” Steve asked smugly, and Sam barely had time to nod before Steve bent his elbows and ducked his head to give him another slow, mind-bending kiss.

Sam made a muffled sound into Steve’s mouth a moment later as Steve lowered himself fully — Steve’s thigh was hot and tight against the head of Sam’s suddenly very erect cock. He moved experimentally — _too good, too good, not yet_ — and shifted until he found Steve’s dick digging into the hollow of his hip. _There,_ now he was the one teasing, and Steve groaned, his kiss getting sloppy and uncoordinated.  

Sam grinned against Steve’s lips and moved again, shifting the angle to give Steve some friction without giving himself enough to get off. Steve’s lips went slack, his eyes closed for a second before they snapped open again and he regained control.

“That’s how it is,” he said softly— not quite the question it usually was.

Sam nodded, about to sass back, but Steve rolled his hips to give himself the advantage, and Sam gasped— the tip of his cock was wet and sliding against Steve’s skin again with just enough rough to make it really, really good. Soon he found himself thrusting up, chasing every indirect touch. Only when Steve huffed a laugh in his ear did Sam pull back and change direction again.

It became a struggle, or maybe a race, each of them taking a turn, trying to make the other lose by coming first. Sam found a small packet of lube on the nightstand and smeared it between them, but Steve bested that by flipping them completely, and he pulled Sam’s ass forward, both his hands kneading the muscle there as his lips toyed at Sam’s neck. The touch was so perfect, Sam was sure he was going to lose — he could feel it building between his legs, the tight pleasure rising, rising — but he had a stroke of luck when Steve bit down on his earlobe just a little too hard. The pain distracted him enough to take over and change direction again.

Steve came first, but only just— the spurt of hot fluid between them, combined with Steve’s blissed-out expression, tipped Sam into coming, and the wave hit hard, emptying Sam completely, until he collapsed against Steve like a fallen tree. They breathed together, Sam kissing Steve’s neck as Steve rubbed his back. The the smell of sex was thick in the air around them, but Sam was comfortable, not sure he could move even if he wanted to.

“That’s how it is,” Sam murmured, better late than never.

Steve chuckled and tried to shift positions, then made a mildly disgusted noise. “I think we’re stuck together.”

“Probably,” Sam agreed. With great effort, he raised himself up and — _gross_ — peeled himself away. “Shower?”

Steve hummed in agreement and got out of bed. He shivered as soon as he was free of the blanket, and Sam smirked.

“Have to warm you up now,” he commented.

“If you insist,” Steve replied with a smirk.

Sam led the way to the bathroom, and if he got a chill when Steve kissed him on the back of the neck, well, that was probably just thanks to the rain.

* * *

Sam and Steve couldn’t hear it over the shower, but, buried in the pile of their clothes on the bedroom floor, Steve’s phone was buzzing. _Ororo Munroe,_ the screen read, brightly visible through the denim of Steve’s jeans. After five rings, the voicemail picked up — _Hello, you’ve reached Steve, please leave me a message —_ and the message, when Steve checked it much later, was short.

A woman, sighing. And then a voice, accented slightly. “You owe me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my SamSteve obsession on [Tumblr](http://mrsdawnaway.tumblr.com).


End file.
